Here at Casa Deadlyjelly, the last month hasn’t been much fun. In fact, there’s no excessive hype or bole involved in saying that it has sucked on the same sort of scale as being drawn into the jet engine of an Antonov An-225.
The details are too unutterably dreary and depressing to go into, but few of these recent events were unexpected. Unfortunately, they were virtually impossible to prepare for.
Now, clearly, I have an awesome life. There’s the husband I love so very much, who happily returns the sentiment (at least he claims to – occasionally voluntarily); we are lavishly adored by the best dog ever in the history of dogkind; we have the good fortune to live in an amazing part of the world; we have our health and as much margharita as we can sink without throwing the rest of the equation.
But when it visits, misery can consume you whole, making it difficult to appreciate the awesomeness. In the midst of this crisis, I’ve struggled to focus on the substantial portion of my existence that is RIGHT.
Although I do appreciate one positive outcome: the opportunity to quote extensively from ‘Tears of a Clown’. Do feel free to imagine me belting this out at top volume, complete with tears rolling down my greasepaint-smudged cheeks:
Now if there’s a smile on my face
It’s only there trying to fool the public
But when it comes down to fooling you
Now honey that’s quite a different subject
But don’t let my glad expression
Give you the wrong impression
Cos really I’m sad,
Oh, I’m sadder than sad
Like a clown I appear to be glad ooh yeah
Well there’re some sad things known to man
But ain’t too much sadder than
The tears of a clown
When there’s no one around
Oh yeah, baby baby, oh yeah baby baby
To resort to terrible cliché – but hey, I’ve just quoted Smokey Robinson, which you’d think HAS TO BE the nadir of this post – life goes on.
The other day I took Jed for a walk to the beach next to our house. As I descended the track, I looked out over the bay glinting like a jewel in the sunlight. A seagull hovered just above the surface of the water. At first, I thought the disturbance beneath must be a shoal of fish.
When I stopped and shaded my eyes and squinted, I saw it was in fact a dolphin, idly spooling around the bay. Then I noticed a second one about 200m from the shoreline. From where I stood, I could see them quite clearly, their fins sporadically breaking the surface in joyful arcs.
Later I learned they were most likely a pair of Hector’s dolphins which occasionally adorn the bay.
I had no idea how long I’d been there when the dolphins left trailing magic in their wake, but it was only then I realised my face had been hijacked by a huge smile.
It galls me to admit – although EXCEEDINGLY GRUDGINGLY – that life is really rather grand.